by Zy J. Rykoa
Chapter Three
One chases victory to the end, enduring loss only when the journey is forgotten.
January 9, 997 R.E.
Jaden grabbed unconsciously at a long shoot of grass, pulling at it until it released, then began twirling it around in his fingers. He was sitting cross-legged on an elevated flat of land in the southeast corner of the valley, staring aimlessly out over a few houses toward where the mountains dropped away and became hills in the west. It was one of his favourite places to sit when he wanted a few quiet moments to think. The sharp cliffs behind him gave an edge of greatness to his thoughts, while the waterfall to his left drowned out any sound from the village. It created an illusion of being alone, secluding him from everyone else, even though he could see people moving about below.
It was beautiful, he thought, and wondered what the rest of the world looked like. He had spent his entire life within Callibra, exploring once or twice outside the mountains, but never straying too far. He had relied mainly on his father to tell him of the other nations, sometimes hearing of incredible cities that boasted technology beyond his wildest dreams. It was always amazing to hear, as he and his people lived without many advances. The village had been created long ago to ensure this, the founding settlers believing that the more technology in a civilisation, the more distractions there would be from inner peace. And so they went about their daily routines, living off the land and using only what they needed, thinking of nothing more and being content as they were.
It was a good life, he knew that, but he was always intrigued to know how the others might have lived. It made him want to travel one day, and he knew he would, maybe just to see the world as it was. But unlike his father, he would only go once, and then he would return home. He would start a family and then he would stay with them, so that he could be there when they needed him. It was the right thing to do.
It was unfair to leave a family to fend for its self while you travelled the world, he thought harshly, his mood changing quickly. They needed time with you, to feel as though they were being taken care of and could always rely on someone. It was safe in Callibra, but there were constant battles being waged between the social clans. It would have helped to have a dominant figure around to stand up to them. But most of all, the family needed someone around so that they could understand who they were.
Jaden threw the piece of grass away in disgust of his realisation, slouching onto his right hand as he fidgeted with his left in the dirt.
His anger passed quickly. He knew deep down that he understood why his father had to go away. It was for the greater good of his people. The rivalry of social clans was petty by comparison. While they fought over land rights and political power, his father was out making sure they were safe from the wars plaguing the outer world. He sacrificed having a home so that his family could live on in peace. But he didn’t only do it for his own family. It was for everyone else’s families, too. He was protecting the ones that fought him and his clan every day.
It made Jaden laugh a little. He liked to entertain the idea of the other clans finding out just how much his father was doing for them, seeing the looks on their faces as they realised their sworn enemy was actually helping them. How much abuse would they shout then?
He smiled, concluding they wouldn’t even dare.
Life would have been so much easier if his father’s efforts were known. What Jaden couldn’t understand was the need for secrecy. He kept it only through the respect he had for his father, trusting his judgement.
For now, the arguments would have to be settled in the old fashioned way—the village’s sport tennagen.
Today was the final, his team and another fighting for this very piece of land that he was sitting upon. It was on his side of the village, it should have been for his clan by that alone, but the others had challenged the rights to it, under the claim that as the best estate in Callibra, it should be given to the strongest families. It was acceptable law in the village. The greatest families were rewarded with the rights to land and power to make decisions on how daily life would be run. It was why tennagen had been invented, to test the clans’ abilities head to head, so that the victor could be clearly seen. It was a game of cunning and wit, muscle and agility. Many were badly injured after each match, the elite the only ones to come off with little more than bruises. But all would be back on the field as soon as they could be. Such was the passion they possessed for the game itself.
Jaden stretched. The game wasn’t for another three hours. There was no need to stress yet.
He lay back in the grass, oblivious to the sky above as he became lost in thought. There was so much to ponder, so much he wanted to achieve in the coming days. His father had gone away, but his grandfather, Vennoss, would be returning. He always enjoyed talking with Vennoss during his father’s absence. Every time he and Vennoss met there was a new story to tell, a new lesson to be learned. Over the years, they had become close friends, and Jaden knew much of his ability to control his temper was to be credited to the words Vennoss had to offer. He was the wisest man he knew apart from his father, and couldn’t wait to hear what Vennoss had to say next.
Jaden relaxed further into the grass, strangely feeling able to sink deeper than usual, as if it were a soft bed of wet sand moulding around him, embracing each and every curve and corner of his body and then firmly supporting it. The crisp scent of freshly crushed grass grew stronger as he pushed his head back, and his breath became steady with its therapeutic aroma. The wind cooled as clouds blocked out the sun, and the land was blackened by shadow as he slept, but strangely he seemed more aware of the world around him than ever before. It was if he were awake, yet no longer in control of his body, frozen in time. He could feel movement around him, a force floating in wide spirals, coming in closer and then drifting out again, much like the water around a tiny island. It was almost comforting, if not a bit nauseating, as he was able to enjoy the fluid routes being taken around him.
The peaceful currents vanished suddenly and his senses peaked. No longer did he feel relaxed in his natural bed. An erratic motion had come out of somewhere in the ocean-like play and disappeared in the same moment. It felt like a spear; a shaft but of nothing solid. It was something deadly. Somehow he knew it was not right, that what he had just experienced was not something that would put him at rest any further. Whatever it was, it was a threat.
He searched his consciousness, moving around in the way that one does through their mind, as if actually able to explore an imaginary world. He hoped to discover the origin of the spear, to understand what it had been, but it was nowhere to be found.
The spirals gained in speed, first at a gradual rate, then more rapidly as more seemed to join the strange orbit around him. It made him feel dizzy, no longer sure of which way to turn. Everything now appeared confusing, as if he were a lost child stumbling through a haunted maze. He almost thought he had felt the presence of monsters lurking in the darkness, hissing silent threats and groaning with hateful misery. They would not attack him, yet, but their threat would linger.
In the commotion, he felt something shoot past him again. It was another spear of a sort. It had happened too quickly. He still couldn’t tell what it was. Two more crossed by him, followed by another that almost made contact with his shoulder. He did his best to analyse what they were, but failed as the spirals enveloped him once more. His head was spinning so quickly now that he couldn’t keep up with it. He was going to fall soon, without anywhere to fall to. He could feel the spears beginning to shoot past him again but at a more constant rate. His panic increased with the speed of the spirals, but still he could not command sense or limb. He was at the mercy of whatever it was that was controlling him.
As he tried to sit up with all his strength, he was greeted with success, gaining a little control as he arched his back up from the ground. But he was then met with a sharp pain in his back, as if one of the spears had shot straight into him, forcing him to relinquish
his control and lie back down. It had felt as if an actual blade had been thrust straight through him, skewering him on its metallic point but allowing no blood to go free. Through the haze of pain, he was drawn by two oval outlines that had appeared ahead. They were almost invisible against the grey sky behind them, yet he could hear something, or feel it. It was as if they were calling for him to come forward, to get away from the pain, to come closer, to...
The ovals disappeared as suddenly as they had come. The pain ever present and still feeling paralysed, Jaden tried to think back to his talks with Vennoss, trying to find something that would save him. There had to be something he knew, something he could do to escape this nightmare. Vennoss had often spoken of strange things such as this, stories in which people would describe an incredible hurt in their sleep, only to die days later, or become gravely ill for the remaining weeks of their life. It all seemed a fantasy. How could it be? Could it really be happening? Was this the end of his life as well, just as it had been for theirs? Was this the sickness his father suffered?
No. He couldn’t let it happen. He had to break free. He fought against the pain, trying to flinch from the blade as his body arched and convulsed from its attack, but it was no use. Each time he gained control more pain would strike him and then increase the grip holding him to the earth.
He had to keep trying, he thought. There must be a way.
In one final attempt, he would move every part of his body in order to flee the ghostly restraints. It took him some time to work up the courage again. The blade-like pain was consistently stabbing at his consciousness, making it almost impossible to take the breath he so desperately needed.
He knew he had to try no matter how hard it seemed. He could do nothing else. Slowly he counted back from three, biding his time before he made the attempt.
Three…
Two…
One…
With a sudden burst of strength, he freed himself from the blade and rose to a sitting position. He could no longer feel the strange movement in the ground, nor the spears crisscrossing underneath him. It had worked. He was amazed to find himself free … or was he? No more than a second had passed before he realised it had been too easy, and that he was not sitting up at all. His eyes were still closed, and then there was the strange sinking sensation of knowing what was about to come.
Horror. Anguish. Death. It struck then, a pain so terrible, a feeling so raw and crippling that it threatened his very sanity as it washed over his body and mind alike. It felt as if a giant claw-like hand had reached up through the dirt and grasped him, pulling him back with such incredible force that it would take him deep below even the ground itself, to a hidden lair of a beast that would feast upon his flesh, content until its next unsuspecting prey came along. The threat of the monsters lurking in the darkness had come to pass.
This was the end. He tried to hold on, but the pain became too much. As he tried to escape it once more, he slipped out of consciousness and lay as if he were deceased; no longer able to think, move, or even breathe. The world had disappeared before him, and he before it.